


There Is More to This Life Than Work

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Unconventional Style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderlock. Tumblr's teastainedcpt prompted that I should use 8-word sentences and include the word "pressure".</p><p>Anderson refuses to be Sherlock's assistant. Inspired by <a href="http://ivyblossom.tumblr.com/post/19122226386/there-are-lots-of-things-that-occur-to-me-far">this post</a>.</p><p>Rated G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is More to This Life Than Work

Sherlock really is spectacularly ignorant about some things. Anderson's blazing attraction is something he doesn't catch. Sherlock is attracted as well; a clear problem. Anderson won't work with him; he'd even begged. 

Sherlock brings John Watson to a crime scene. He's nothing like Anderson; must be the point. He's agreeable, not bitter; he's strong, not gangly. Anderson feels awkward in comparison the whole time. It's the first time Sherlock disregards practiced protocol. He won't wear the coverall, nor any gloves. The door slam is absolutely the worst part. 

Sherlock starts insulting Anderson's intelligence; that's new too. Anderson had always felt relaxed around Sherlock before. Sherlock's occasional praise had been pleasant, even exciting. Anderson's been tossed aside, an old chew toy. He's worse than useless: his use once existed. Perhaps Sherlock had only ever thought him cute. Perhaps, in his charming awkwardness, he'd hooked Sherlock. Sherlock has thrown him back into the sea.

He casually crosses his arms, solemnity to belie. "Is all of this because I said no?"

"I told you that I needed an assistant. You refused me, Anderson, when you shouldn't have."

"I had my reasons," he looks away sharply. Otherwise, he'd likely stare for too long. He really admires Sherlock, no matter how dickish. 

"Spectacularly stupid ones, no doubt; admit it."

"I don't have to take this, you know."

"Oh, you know you like taking it, Anderson. It's entirely suiting to your tastes and personality." Sherlock tastes victory when Anderson flushes red. 

"I'm not assistant material; not for you anyway."

"You're already regretting saying no to me, Anderson. It's really only a matter of time."

***

Anderson continues to be jealous of John Watson. John doesn't know German, nor forensics, nor chemistry. But Sherlock prefers him, and it stings maddeningly. Yes, Anderson turned Sherlock down about assisting him. But they'd gotten on so well before that. 

"Would you stop it with the idiot thing?" It puts him in a vulnerable position, asking. But the divorce is hard, and he's tired. What's more, he's losing touch with his girlfriend. Sally and he never expected forever; that's okay. 

"Why should my opinion matter to you, Anderson? You've been clear you won't work with me."

"There's more to this life than work, Sherlock. I'd almost thought we could have been friends."

"Someone like me isn't meant to have friends. You probably still think I'm a psychopath, right? I don't know how you maintain such ignorance. It's really quite a feat; job well done."

"Despite what you say, you do have friends." Sherlock raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "John is your friend, no matter your opinion. And Greg is too, if you ask me."

"John is a colleague, and who is Greg?"

"Don't play dumb; I know you're a genius. Look, the truth is...I'd still be friends. With you, I mean, because we did okay. We even used to converse in German, remember?"

"That was before you turned me down, cruelly."

"For God's sake, Sherlock, it's for the best."

"Because you're afraid of my inability to care. I'm a murderer to be, don't you think? So predictable, so ruled by Sally's uninformed opinions."

Anderson raises his voice, hands on his hips. "I want you, you deluded, enormously arrogant prick." There it is: silence from the never silent. "That did it; that finally shut you up!" He pauses, shaking his head, sighing, defeated. "But, obviously, that's not going to go anywhere. I can't help but show off; it's embarrassing. I like how excited you get about murders. I like the pressure I feel from you. You show up and I feel...wonderfully scrutinized. But you don't care for me, I know. You belittle me and that works for you. But it doesn't work for me, not really. I do have some self-respect, somewhere in me. So, that's why I can't assist you, see? Or maybe you don't, you being a sociopath." 

Sherlock is just staring, bewildered, somehow strangely lost. "But, Anderson, really...are you having me on?"

"Have I ever humiliated myself for a joke? No, I can't say that I am, Sherlock."

"Well...Anderson, why do you think that I...?" Sherlock swallows, wondering why his throat feels dry. "I asked for your assistance because...you're you." He coughs, ducking his head of dark curls. "Oh, Anderson, this is ridiculous in the extreme."

"I see; you felt like I'd rejected you. I hadn't though; it was only about work. And then you buried your sorrows in John. I thought you'd never actually cared about me. I'm sorry, or at least I should be. I still don't want to be your assistant." Sherlock glares at Anderson; Anderson raises a hand. "I'd like to speak German with you again. And I'd like to watch horror films together. I don't really do much with people either."

This changes everything; they're both terribly aware.

"Tell you what: I'll think about it, carefully. I won't stop treating you like you deserve. I'll still call you an idiot, and worse. People don't really like me, under prolonged exposure. You'll regret spending time with me soon enough. But, in the mean time, I wouldn't mind. I do think you're interesting, every so often. I find you attractive and willing to please. I like creating pressure so you'll work better. I like to poke fun at your shortcomings."

Anderson's knees weaken; he bites at his lip. "I hope the rumors about you aren't true. The ones about you dating John, I mean."

"No; I consider myself married to my work. I also consider you married to your wife."

"We're in the process of getting a divorce." 

"I'm never going to divorce my work, Anderson."

Anderson looks away, not sure why it stings.

"But, as you said, there's more to life."

"Is that...a yes, then, to a date?"

"If you pay, and it's interesting, why not?"

Sherlock stalks off, leaving Anderson behind to stare. He pauses when he realizes he's been unclear. "I meant now, Anderson; you have five minutes."

"Five minutes to do what, Sherlock?" Anderson sputters.

"To imagine a date that I'll find impressive." He reaches for Anderson's hand, pats his shoulder. "Please, do try to keep up with me. Genius requires an audience, or what's the point?"

Anderson squeezes the hand, rolling his eyes, put upon. "I can see it now: date by experiment. Crime scene snogs; dinners where you won't eat."

Sherlock's lip quirks, "You'll keep up, won't you? Yes, this will be quite worth a try." 

Anderson wonders how late the museum is open.


End file.
